


that will never be enough

by cybergore



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Teen Angst, Unrequited Love, but not really, i treat kuroo so bad in this one, made up games for plot purposes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25932268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergore/pseuds/cybergore
Summary: “hey, kenma?” tetsurou had asked, leaning upside-down over the edge of the bed, toward where kenma was sitting with his game. “have you ever been in love?”kenma paused before he answered. “maybe,” he mumbled, cheeks pinked and eyes averted.tetsurou had, too. he didn’t think he ever would be again, though.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 11
Kudos: 60





	that will never be enough

**Author's Note:**

> i didnt proofread this or have it betaed. i also took a three month break halfway through writing it, that i just ended now, at 5am. swag
> 
> ribs - lorde

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Tetsurou was self-aware enough to know that, at least. That this wasn’t the way it went in books and movies and those stupid romance animes he and Bokuto watched sometimes.

In romance animes, for starters,  _ Tetsurou, _ as the smirking, messy-haired, bad boy of a volleyball captain, wouldn’t be the one with a horrible pining crush on his best friend.

Certainly not one that had been inhabiting the darker crevices of his mind since before he even knew what a ‘crush’ was. Certainly not one he tried to ignore and push away until it became so all-consuming that he  _ couldn’t _ anymore.

Tetsurou’s reputation (which was partially self-imposed, he had to admit) made him out to be a player, someone unable to be bothered with commitment and simply focused on having a good time. Unfortunately for him, that was… the opposite of the truth.

Tetsurou wanted a sweet, cliché romance, with all the strings attached. The only catch was that he wanted it with his childhood best friend who didn’t feel the same way in any capacity.

Of course, Tetsurou hadn’t known that in the beginning.

There was a time, between his first year of high school and his second, when Tetsurou had thought,  _ maybe, _ Kenma might reciprocate some approximation of romantic affection toward him. And, in all honesty, it wasn’t hard for Tetsurou to come to that conclusion.

Tetsurou had thought to himself, one evening, as he was playing video games with Kenma in his bedroom, that he and Kenma had never been  _ just friends. _

Their relationship had never just been “you’re okay to hang out with, I don’t mind you” or even “I guess I like you”. It had been, “you’re the only person I can stand right now, please let me hide from everyone else with you”.

And had Tetsurou turned his head to the side on the headboard of Kenma’s bed, and Kenma turned back to him. Tetsurou’s heart beat, like, ten times faster than it probably should’ve been doing, and their breaths mingled. Kenma smiled a small, fond smile that Tetsurou had never seen directed at anyone else. And Tetsurou thought that  _ maybe, _ maybe the thing he’d dreamed about since he was eleven years old might come true.

Once he’d come to that conclusion, Tetsurou was like a pure ball of nervous, excited energy for days. Even more enthusiastic than usual, Tetsurou was practically  _ giddy _ around Kenma and the rest of their friends.

When anyone had asked him what was up with his mood, Tetsurou would just smile ridiculously and say something cheesy like, “Just thinking about the possibilities.”

This excitement had gone on for days, and despite a  _ lot _ of questioning (and adorable) looks from Kenma, Tetsurou had managed to keep the real reason behind his positive attitude under wraps.

He held it close to his chest, like a precious secret only for him.  _ Kenma might like me back Kenma might like me back Kenma might like me back Kenma might like me back, _ played in a constant loop in his head, softly underlying everything Tetsurou thought or did. It glowed within him, igniting sparkles and butterflies and glee in his abdomen when he thought of it.

About a week into this streak of Tetsurou’s perpetual optimism, though, something changed.

Kenma started acting—not exactly distant, but… distracted. During lunch, Tetsurou would catch him staring at specific spots in the lunchroom with his eyes practically glazed over. He saw Kenma even  _ blushing _ occasionally when he quickly looked away. Kenma talked even less than usual, and was even more absorbed in his games.

Tetsurou assured himself that it was fine, it was probably nothing, and Kenma still liked him and still wanted to be his friend and wouldn’t leave him behind and find a new best friend.  _ Right? _

One night, while Tetsurou was getting ready for bed and pondering the Kenma issue, his brain supplied,  _ maybe this is  _ his _ reaction to getting a crush on  _ you. Tetsurou blushed in the mirror and decided not to entertain that possibility for too long.

Still, that didn’t mean Tetsurou stopped thinking about Kenma liking him. Liking him back. Kissing him softly, on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his lips.  _ That _ notion stayed, shimmering and pulsing in the space between his ribs.

Another week had passed, and Tetsurou and Kenma were found sitting under a tree in the school’s courtyard during lunch, sharing a chocolate-chip cookie. Tetsurou was looking over Kenma’s shoulder as he played a game, something zombie-related. It was entertaining.

Kenma beat a level, and Tetsurou whooped, and then a loud laugh rang out across the courtyard. Tetsurou felt Kenma go stiff beside him, saw the tips of his ears redden.

“What happened, Ken?” Tetsurou asked. When Kenma didn’t reply, Tetsurou turned and looked in the direction the sound had come from.

Across the courtyard, a pretty second year girl with auburn hair in a ponytail was standing next to two more girls. Tetsurou could see her smile from where he sat, it was so bright.

He turned back to Kenma. “Who’s that?”

Kenma made a tiny grunting noise. “Ikeda Hisako.”

Tetsurou looked back at the girl, who was telling a story, animatedly moving her hands as she spoke to her friends. Kenma was blushing when Tetsurou’s gaze shifted to him.

_ Oh. _

“She’s the girl that’s been getting all your attention lately?” said Tetsurou, going for a teasing tone, but instead just sounding surprised. At least that was better than sounding nauseated.

Kenma glared at him. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Tetsurou declared, throwing up his hands. A sick feeling roiled in his gut.  _ Ikeda Hisako. _ “I was going to say… she’s pretty.”

“What, you like her, too, now?” Kenma asked, quirking a brow. He sounded almost defensive, like this girl was someone he wanted to protect.

_ As if I could ever like anyone other than you. _ “Of course not,” Tetsurou shook his head. He thought saying the words would physically hurt him, but Tetsurou managed to force out, “She’s all yours, man.”

“Yeah, right,” Kenma grumbled, turning back to his game. Crimson blush remained on the tips of his ears.

“What do you mean? Go get her!” Tetsurou said, pumping his fist. He tried to sound encouraging, and he was pretty sure he did an okay job of it, but inside all he could possibly think was,  _ Kenma likes a girl, he likes a girl, he likes someone that’s not me, he doesn’t like me, would he like me if  _ I _ was a girl? _

Tetsurou felt sharp pricks at the back of his eyes, so he quickly shoved forward to stare up at the afternoon sun in an attempt to quell the rising tears. If he cried, not only would it be embarrassing as hell, but it would undoubtedly give away his crush on Kenma.

Kenma shrugged, mumbling something under his breath about ‘forgetting it’ and going back to his game.

But Tetsurou wouldn’t forget it.  _ Ikeda Hisako. _

From then on, Kenma’s crush on Ikeda Hisako only grew, at least from what Tetsurou could see. He became more comfortable talking to Tetsurou about her, which was a blessing and a curse.

On one hand, Tetsurou wanted Kenma to be as at ease as possible while talking to him. He wanted Kenma to be able to tell him anything. And it was also interesting (also read: agonizing) to know what exactly he was in (not really) competition with.

But it hurt like hell to hear Kenma practically gush over someone else every day, when Tetsurou was  _ pining after him, _ and had been since childhood.

Tetsurou’s previous excitement ebbed away quickly, and he was left with a shadow of his usual optimism, dampened into drooping smiles and empty laughs.

A bit down the line, Tetsurou found himself gasping awake, the dark remnants of a nightmare sticking to his shivery skin like cobwebs. In it, Kenma had told him that he was “too much, too tiring, too  _ annoying _ and too much of a burden to deal with.” Then Dream-Kenma had pushed Tetsurou to the ground and walked off.

When Tetsurou has attempted to go to Kenma’s house and ask for forgiveness, he’d opened Kenma’s bedroom door to find Ikeda Hisako in his spot on Kenma’s bed, facing Kenma, like Tetsurou had.

Kenma gave Ikeda the smile Tetsurou  _ had never seen him flash at anyone but Tetsurou himself, _ and Ikeda kissed him on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, and then his lips. Tetsurou turned and left.

When Tetsurou woke up, the tears were already streaming down his face. He buried his face in his pillow and  _ sobbed. _ Nonetheless, he was careful to stay quiet so no one else in his house would be disturbed by him.

So no one came and asked him what was wrong. So no one forced Tetsurou to explain why he was sobbing at…  _ 3:24am _ over a nightmare about his best friend kissing someone else.

He eventually fell back asleep around 4:30am, exhausted from the tears he’d shed and the magnified emotions.

When Tetsurou’s father came in to wake him up for school, he saw his puffy eyes and disgruntled demeanor and told him that if he felt sick he could stay home. He didn’t have volleyball practice, anyway.

Tetsurou felt sick, alright.

In the evening, Tetsurou felt more settled, if anything. Having spent the day in front of the television, drowning in blankets, he’d been able to exchange his bothersome feelings for the emotional turmoil assigned to on-screen characters.

“Yotsubashi,  _ no,” _ Tetsurou cried, as the airing drama’s protagonist jiggled the knob of the front door to a house that was  _ clearly _ haunted, damn it.

Eerie music flooded Tetsurou’s living room as the dim-witted teenager’s actor stumbled into the creepy mansion’s foyer.

“Dumbass,” Tetsurou huffed, shoving his hand into the bowl of chips that lay perched on his lap.

Before Tetsurou could watch what would become of Yotsubashi, though, a knock sounded on his door.  _ That must be his father, home from work. He forgot his key again? _ Tetsurou paused the show and licked the salty residue of chip flavoring from his index finger and thumb, before securing the blanket he wore around his shoulders like a cape.

When he opened the front door, though, it wasn’t his father that greeted him—it was the (pun-intended) man of Tetsurou’s dreams.

Kenma stood on the Kuroo house’s front step, having traded his school uniform for a hoodie and sweats. His dyed-blonde hair hung past his chin, looking slightly damp from what must’ve been a recent shower. It took Tetsurou probably longer than it should’ve for him to say, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Kenma replied, arms crossed over his chest. “I came to give you the stuff you missed, from school? Sensei said I should.”

“Oh,” Tetsurou said, noting the folder in Kenma’s hands. “Thanks. Uh, you can come in.”

Kenma nodded, stepping past Tetsurou into his house and depositing the folder on a cupboard in the front hall. Tetsurou’s gaze flicked over the folder, catching on his name scrawled in Kenma’s cramped hand— _ Kuroo. _

“So,” Kenma said, shifting from foot to foot as he surveyed the pile of blankets on the couch and the paused television show. “Are you sick?”

“Huh? Oh, um, no,” Tetsurou assured him. “I’m okay. Just felt kinda out of it this morning. Heh.”

“Oh,” Kenma nodded. “Okay. Hope you feel better.”

“Yeah, I do,” Tetsurou replied quickly. “I feel fine now. I’ll be back in school tomorrow.”

“That’s good.” Conversation was flowing awkwardly, but Tetsurou assured himself that this was just the way talking with Kenma was; he was a man of few words.

“So, um,” Tetsurou trailed off, sitting down on the couch and motioning for Kenma to do the same. “What did I miss? Besides schoolwork, that is.”

Kenma rolled his eyes. “The usual stupidity. An upperclassman called Lev cute and he freaked out.”

Tetsurou lets out a laugh, albeit a slightly shaky one, at that. That sounds like Lev, alright. “He’s so skittish around older girls.”

_ “Older _ girls? Girls in general,” Kenma snorted. That, in turn, brought another laugh from Tetsurou. The feeling of joking around with Kenma worked as a balm for Tetsurou’s worries.

Maybe his dream was just that—a bad dream. Maybe everything was fine with Kenma, and it would continue to be. Maybe Tetsurou could work past these feelings, and things could go back to normal. They’d be just two bros, and Tetsurou wouldn’t screw up the best friendship he’d ever had.

“So…” Tetsurou said, turning to Kenma. “You wanna play some video games?”

Kenma smiled, then, the same smile from the dream, the same smile he reserved for Tetsurou, and the warmth in Tetsurou’s belly crackled to life again. And he  _ did _ feel fine. He felt  _ good. _

Unfortunately, that good feeling did not last long.

With each passing day since Tetsurou’s nightmare incident, things with Kenma had seemed to improve.

When Tetsurou caught himself sending longing glances toward his best friend during class, he simply rerouted them to whatever the teacher was doing.

Kenma and Tetsurou hung out after school nearly every day that week, whether they passed the time playing video games (more likely) or just walking around, hitting up convenience stores for snacks.

Overall, Tetsurou has decided that he was doing better. He was doing  _ well. _

That is, until one afternoon, when Tetsurou and Kenma had been playing that zombie game at Kenma’s house. After a few rounds, they’d decided to take a break. Tetsurou flopped on Kenma’s mattress and stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars decorating the ceiling.

Sitting on the floor, back against the bed, Kenma fiddled with his controller and stretched his legs out.

Tetsurou’s mind wandered back to something Bokuto had asked him at a match a while back, as he stared across the Fukurodani court at Akaashi.

Now, Tetsurou repeated the inquiry to his best friend.

“Hey, Kenma?” Tetsurou had asked, leaning upside-down over the edge of the bed, toward where Kenma was sitting with his game. “Have you ever been in love?”

Kenma paused before he answered. “Maybe,” he mumbled, cheeks pinked and eyes averted.

Tetsurou had, too. He didn’t think he ever would be again, though.

That afternoon in Kenma’s bedroom, it seemed to really sink in, for the first time.

When Tetsurou thought about love, images of blonde hair with dark roots, tiny, wry smirks, slim fingers darting across the buttons on a game boy came to mind. The scent of apple pie baking, the triumphant jingle of a new level being cleared on a video game.

For Kenma, though, it was something else. Ginger hair, tied up, and far-away grins. The smell of her conditioner, the sound of her laugh. Her soft palms as they skimmed his arm to grab his attention.

Tetsurou closed his eyes tightly and breathed evenly through his nose. He  _ didn’t _ think about the fact that when Kenma envisioned kissing the person he loved, he didn’t imagine running his hands through unkempt black hair the way Tetsurou thought of his own fingers slipping through Kenma’s bleached blonde locks.

As Tetsurou walked home later that evening, through the night-darkened neighbourhood, the salty taste of his own tears hit his tongue. He tried to ignore it, but eventually his own sadness was blurring his vision and forcing him to stop walking. He leaned against a tree a few blocks down from his house, and cried quietly for a minute or two.

Though he’d tried to be optimistic, it didn’t seem like just ignoring this problem was working too well for him.

The next few weeks passed in something of a blur.

There was a game against Fukurodani, again, and after his team’s victory, Bokuto cornered Tetsurou by the bleachers.

“Hey, man, are you doing okay?” Bokuto asked. He actually sounded concerned. Tetsurou was surprisingly touched.

“Of course I am,” Tetsurou replied, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He didn’t resent Bokuto for beating him; their friendship was stronger than that. Supreme bros don’t let team rivalry come between them.

“Are you sure?” Bokuto hedged, raising an eyebrow. “You seem kinda… out of it. Less energized than usual, you know?”

Tetsurou shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s all good. I’m just… uh, things are a little weird in the, um, emotions department, ya feel?”

Bokuto nodded earnestly. “For sure, man. I get you. Wanna talk about it?”

Tetsurou quickly brushed off  _ that _ suggestion. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m just kinda down in the dumps right now, but I’ll be okay.”

Bokuto looked back at him, concern and worry practically seeping through his pores. “If you say so, bro. But you know you can talk to me about anything, right? I got you! Even the feelings stuff, I’ve got your back.”

Tetsurou smiled slightly. “Thanks, Bokubro. You’re a good friend.”

Bokuto finally grinned. “Anytime, my man.”

Despite Bokuto’s kind words and encouragement, though, Tetsurou walked away from the match feeling defeated. Even more so when he noticed a vaguely familiar head of auburn hair in the stands.

Ikeda Hisako waved to Kenma as he and Tetsurou passed by bleachers, and Tetsurou would’ve had to be blind and a fool not to notice the way Kenma’s eyes brightened and his face flushed.

Tetsurou swallowed down the pain that rose in his throat and laughed at Lev and Yaku’s antics as they boarded the bus back to Nekoma.

When Kenma fell asleep on Tetsurou’s shoulder halfway through the ride back home, Tetsurou had to blink an incredible amount of times just to get the oncoming tears under control.

_ This is okay, _ Tetsurou assured himself.  _ It’ll go away soon enough, and you’ll go back to being best friends. _ He didn’t believe it, though. Not really.

So, essentially, all this had led up to one thing. Something that Tetsurou, though he tried to ignore it, saw coming.

As weeks went on and turned into months, as the weather changed and Tetsurou and everyone around him started donning coats and hats and mittens, Kenma began, slowly, expanding his friend group.

One afternoon, he broke off plans to play video games with Tetsurou in favor of studying with a boy from his class named Naoki. Another time, Tetsurou saw Kenma talking to two girls before lunch hour began.

Even more notably, though, was the sudden insertion of Ikeda Hisako into Kenma’s social life. Wherever he went, it seemed, Ikeda followed. She was always waving her fingers at him in the hallways, smiling brightly at him from across the room, giggling about something with him before the start of class.

She even began attending the volleyball team’s games, cheering loudly for Nekoma and, of course,  _ Kenma _ in the bleachers.

From what Tetsurou could see, she was a perfectly nice girl. Outgoing, sweet, cheerful, and pretty, too. Ikeda had done nothing to make Tetsurou hate her. Therefore, it made him feel exceedingly guilty that he did.

Although Tetsurou knew he shouldn’t, he felt spite well beneath his eyes and gums when he saw Ikeda in the crowd.

After a while, he welcomed it. It was better than the half-aching, half-searing feeling that plagued his chest when he saw Kenma and Ikeda laughing together, talking together, smiling together.

Still, even through Ikeda’s quick ascension into their lives, Tetsurou managed to keep a firm hold on Kenma’s friendship.

He spent as much time with him as he could—which still wasn’t much, when you factored in the amount of time that was now devoted to Ikeda and Kenma’s new friends, and compared it to the amount of time Tetsurou was  _ used _ to spending with his best friend.

Nevertheless, Tetsurou stuck close to Kenma’s side, no matter how painful it had become to maintain that proximity.

Tetsurou wasn’t stupid. He saw the longing glances Kenma gave Ikeda when she wasn’t looking. He saw the ones Ikeda sent right back.

He knew it was  _ only a matter of time. _

And so came the big game. A volleyball match against Aoba Johsai.

Nekoma’s volleyball club had been practicing and training endlessly for this game, and you could feel it in the tangible cloud of anticipation that had settled over the team’s bus as they once again drove to the away game.

Tetsurou was sharing a seat with Kenma, as usual, and after a particularly long stint of sitting still, Kenma sighed and stretched, whining like a cat as he did so.

Tetsurou felt something within him ache.

Kenma’s voice broke the brief silence between them unexpectedly when he said, “She’s going to be there.”

“Hm?” Tetsurou asked, giving Kenma a questioning look.

“Ikeda,” Kenma clarified, fiddling anxiously with the zipper of his sweatshirt.  _ Ah, yes. Ikeda. _

“Oh,” Tetsurou hummed, not really understanding why they had to talk about Ikeda,  _ again. _ When she wasn’t even there. “Isn’t she usually? At the games?”

Kenma nodded. “But this is a big game. And I’m… nervous.”

_ “You?” _ Tetsurou gasped, eyes widening in mocking, over-exaggerated shock.  _ “Nervous? _ About  _ volleyball?” _

The small laugh his teasing coaxed from Kenma was well worth all the ridiculousness.

“No, idiot,” Kenma rolled his eyes. “I’m not nervous about that. I… was thinking about talking to Ikeda. Tonight. After the game. If it goes okay, that is.”

“Talking to her…? Don’t you normally do that, too?” Tetsurou asked.

“Not just  _ talking _ to her,” Kenma huffed, apparently starting to get irritated by Tetsurou’s thickheadedness. “I was thinking of…  _ confessing.” _

Kenma’s voice dropped to a whisper at the last part, and funnily enough, Tetsurou’s heart dropped to his gut in tandem.

“T-To Ikeda?” Tetsurou asked.

Kenma nodded, looking at Tetsurou like he was a moron.

And he was. Oh, god, he was. For everything. For believing this wouldn’t happen, for thinking his infatuation with Kenma would just  _ go away, _ for  _ falling in love with Kenma in the first place. _

“Oh,” Tetsurou managed to say slowly, pushing past the dryness in his throat. “Uh, yeah. Go for it, man. You’ll be great.”

“You think so? You don’t think she’ll say no?” Kenma asked, sounding incredulous.  _ Incredulous. _ It absolutely killed Tetsurou that after this, after  _ all this, _ Kenma still didn’t realize how much of a fucking catch he was. How amazing he always had been.

“Of course I think so,” Tetsurou said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Dude, are you crazy? You’re, like… the most amazing person I know. Seriously. Anyone would be  _ lucky _ to have you. You’re smart, and funny when you want to be, and really adorable, and a good volleyball player, and a  _ good _ fucking gamer. And if you think she doesn’t see that? If you think I-Ikeda doesn’t see that, and she doesn’t want you? Then you’re blind  _ and _ crazy.”

Tetsurou’s voice broke toward the end of his little speech, but Kenma didn’t seem to notice.

That fond smile, special and reserved for Tetsurou only, made its way onto Kenma’s lips. “Thank you, Kuroo,” he said, somewhat shyly as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, or something akin to it. “That was, uh, really nice of you.”

Tetsurou resisted the urge to scream and instead opted to say, “That was the truth. She’ll say yes.” When Tetsurou nodded once and turned to look out the window, he was infinitely glad that Kenma didn’t bother trying to talk to him more.

By the time the bus arrived at Aoba Johsai High, Tetsurou had let his feelings of hopelessness mutate partially into something sharp and fiery that felt like anger? Hurt?

Though Tetsurou couldn’t be fully sure what he was angry or hurt about, besides for the ache in his chest, he made the conscious decision to take it all, and put it the fuck to work.

Tetsurou played harder than he remembered ever having done before, and the match passed in a blur of hard touches and loud noises until Tetsurou could register golden eyes in front of his.

“Kuroo, we  _ won,” _ Kenma says, his voice amazingly breathy, his small smile the brightest thing Tetsurou has ever seen in his life. Though he wasn’t one for physical affection, Kenma laced his fingers through Tetsurou’s just then.

If Tetsurou had a little more bravery or a little less self preservation, he would’ve kissed Kenma square on the mouth in that moment. Instead, he let himself get swept along into a celebratory hug from Lev, fingers untangling from Kenma’s along the way.

Tetsurou didn’t register much after that except the tang sweat hanging in the air, and cheering and hugs and smiles all around from his team. Something glowing, like…  _ accomplishment  _ welled up in Tetsurou’s chest. Then Lev was saying something about going for ice cream, and Coach was being coerced, and the bus was rerouting to a nearby convenience store.

Kenma had his phone out, quickly typing to a contact defined merely by a blue heart emoji, and Tetsurou was looking out the window again.

The light that had taken up residence in Tetsurou’s chest promptly went out.

Something funny was the fact that Tetsurou had always been told that he would find love easily.

When he’d have big reunions and holiday dinners with his extended family, his grandfathers and uncles would exclaim over his academic accomplishments and talents when it came to volleyball. His aunts and grandmothers would pinch his cheeks and remark about how  _ handsome _ he was, how tall and sweet and athletic.

They’d ruffle his already-unkempt hair and laugh, saying something like, “What a catch. Have you found yourself a girlfriend yet?”

Tetsurou would smile, too, wholly believing what they said. He knew, despite the self deprecation that claimed him sometimes, that he was a good-looking guy. Smart, athletic, funny.

“Coolest hair ever,” he’d say, pointing to his chronic bed head. Always earning laughs from the grown-ups and his cousins, fond replies about his confidence.

Really, Tetsurou had always carried that with him. The idea that someone loving him would be inevitable, that he was destined to be someone’s dream boy. It never meant much to him, though. Always a nice assurance that he took for granted.

When Tetsurou entered high school, the sentiment jumped out at him a bit more. By then, Tetsurou had already established who he was, to a certain degree. He knew that his relatives hadn’t been off the mark when they spoke of his future girlfriend, but that his own affections weren’t reserved solely for girls.

(The pretty girl from Tetsurou’s first year Japanese class, with dark skin, darker pigtails, and a shy, knowing smile that reminded Tetsurou of that painting their teacher had shown them from the Italian renaissance.)

(The first time Tetsurou met Bokuto’s friend Akaashi, also in his first year, feeling like the breath was stolen from his lungs when Akaashi’s turquoise eyes blinked up at him.)

(And Kenma. Always Kenma.)

Tetsurou had always been assured, by friends and family alike, that he was easy to want. Easy to love. The kind of guy no one would pass up. It had been a given, a constant in his life. Something he’d been assured of, and in turn, sure of.

Now? Not so much anymore.

In the dim light resonating from the convenience store’s LED signs, Tetsurou unwrapped the popsicle Coach treated him to. The rest of the team was inside, either still deciding on their treat, or eating and reveling in the post-game buzz.

Tetsurou barely tasted the popsicle as he obnoxiously slurped the lime flavor. He knew what ice cream Kenma was getting; definitely a cherry popsicle, or one of those packaged rainbow snow cones. He always went for one of those.

_ Kenma. _

Tetsurou’s gut lurched, and he pulled his popsicle from his mouth, Kenma’s words from before the game surfacing in his mind.

_ “I was thinking of…  _ confessing.”

Tonight. Now. That was what Kenma had been texting Ikeda about, probably, on the bus. Tetsurou’s stomach rolled as he leaned against the brick exterior of the shop, eyes fluttering closed.

This was it. Kenma was going to confess, and Ikeda Hisako was going to say yes, because as much as Tetsurou might dislike her, he knew she wasn’t an idiot.

And it would be over. Everything. Tetsurou would bury his feelings for Kenma, six feet under, and carry on with his own life. Kenma would slip away, more so than he already had, and Tetsurou would be  _ alone. _

Alone, and sad, and pathetic, and hung up on his best friend of thirteen years who didn’t even fucking  _ like guys, _ as far as Tetsurou knew. And he knew pretty far.

From somewhere down the street, a car door slammed shut. Tetsurou didn’t bother opening his eyes.

Light footsteps on the pavement brought whoever this newcomer was closer, and closer, and closer. A now-familiar voice interrupts the relative silence Tetsurou had been basking in.

“Kinda dangerous to be sleeping in public at night, isn’t it?” asked Ikeda Hisako, a note of humor in her voice. “Let alone standing up.”

Tetsurou pried his eyes open and looked down at the girl in the lazily blinking blue LED light. She’d dressed up for the occasion, clearly, in a polka-dotted sundress and sandals. Her auburn hair was braided to the side. Did she know Kenma would be confessing?

Or did she just care that much what he thought of her, even on a normal evening?

Tetsurou desperately willed himself not to care.

“I’m not sleeping,” he said simply. “Just relaxing.”

Ikeda nodded, a small smile twisting her lips. “You’re letting your ice pop melt,” she said, motioning to the lime popsicle in Tetsurou’s hand. He glanced down at it, having forgotten the thing in his emotional turmoil, et cetera.

“That was on purpose,” he said flatly, pulling another laugh from Ikeda.

“Um, you probably knew… I’m here for Kenma,” she said after a moment.

_ So am I, _ Tetsurou wanted to say. He didn’t.

“He’s inside,” Tetsurou said, fixing his gaze on the half-melted popsicle he no longer had the appetite for.

The sound of a door opening. A whoosh of cool, air-conditioned, cleaning-product scented oxygen. “Not anymore,” Kenma said quietly, stepping out of the convenience store and closing the door swiftly behind him.

“Kenma! Hi,” Ikeda greeted cheerfully, her tone brightening immediately. Tetsurou fought the selfish urge to roll his eyes.

“Hi, Ikeda,” Kenma replied softly. “Hey, Kuro.”

Tetsurou’s heart clenched at the nickname. “Hi,” he nearly whispered.

“I’m glad you showed up,” Kenma said, after a half-moment, and it took Tetsurou a painful moment of hoping to realize that he was speaking to Ikeda.

_ “I’m _ glad I showed up,” Ikeda giggled breathily. She took a small step toward Kenma, and he did the same, and Tetsurou was hit with the inexplicable urge to dump his guts out all over the pavement.

The pain in his chest was building, and he just wanted it to be over, he wanted it to be  _ gone. _ Tetsurou wanted to  _ not fucking care anymore, _ to let this go and be happy for Kenma. He wanted to stop seeing his best friend’s face whenever he closed his eyes. It had become more agonizing than sweet.

Most of all, Tetsurou wanted to be selfish. He wanted to step in between the smitten kids in front of him, and pour his heart out, and take back what he’d wanted since as long as he could remember.

But Tetsurou was a lot of things. He was a good captain, if their win tonight meant anything. He was a good kisser, as far as the two girls and three boys he’d made out with in his seventeen years of living thought. He was an inquisitive student, a shitty chess player, a heavy sleeper, an obnoxious laugher. And he was a good fucking friend.

So, as much as it made his chest  _ burn _ with pain to do so, he tipped Kenma a two fingered salute, gave Ikeda a nod, and made his way past the pair of them to the convenience store’s door.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” he said quietly, not bothering to see their reactions or hear their replies as he walked back into the shop and joined the rest of his team.

Through the front windows of the convenience store, Tetsurou watched Kenma’s face heat and eyes dart around as he made his confession. The Nekoma Volleyball Club’s rowdy post-game adrenaline celebration backed up Tetsurou’s view as he saw Ikeda Hisako take Kenma’s hands in hers and smile at him.

But, funny enough, despite all the noise inside the cramped shop, everything seemed to go silent as Ikeda took Kenma’s face in her hands and kissed him gently on the lips.

Tetsurou didn’t really see the rest too well, due to his vision being blurred by nettlesome tears that welled up in his eyes.

Despite the way his chest seized painfully, and his breaths sped up uncomfortably, though, Tetsurou maintained the presence of mind to rethink one thing.

The smile on Kenma’s face as Ikeda grasped his hand and pulled him along down the street, her own expression equally gleeful. The sound of the rest of the club cackling raucously over something Lev said. Tetsurou himself, leaning alone against a wall.

Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe  _ it _ was supposed to be like this.

**Author's Note:**

> im going thru it


End file.
